


Shoot Christmas Oneshots

by assassinactual



Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: Christmas-y fluff, F/F, Root is Root, Shaw tolerates her
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-01
Updated: 2016-01-01
Packaged: 2018-05-04 08:41:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 6,790
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5327807
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/assassinactual/pseuds/assassinactual
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Exactly what it says on the tin.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. the key to her heart

 

Shaw shoved her way past a throng of last minute shoppers crowding the narrow aisle. She had almost given up and turned back when she'd realized that with less a week left before Christmas the store would be packed. But she’d already walked through several blocks of icy sidewalks to get there. And Root would only get more annoying about it. She turned left and the end of the aisle and finally found herself facing the display of deadbolts.

 

* * *

 

They were in Shaw’s bed, Root was cuddling her, and Shaw was letting her.

“Mmhm, Sam?” Root said sleepily.

“Yeah?”

“Since I’m your girlfriend now, you should give me a key to your apartment so I don’t have to break in every time.”

“ _I_ don’t even have a key to my apartment.” Shaw grumbled. “And I never agreed that you’re my girlfriend.” Shaw half-heartedly tried to push Root off the bed, but gave up when Root wrapped her arms and legs around her and squeezed even tighter than before.

“You let me eat your food and use your guns. What else would we be?” Shaw didn’t have an answer for this.

Root was apparently satisfied she’d made her point and went back to sleep. Shaw, on the other hand, laid awake, staring into the dark for a long time, wondering how they had gotten to this point.

 

* * *

 

Shaw installed the lock as soon as she got home from the store. When she was done, one key went into an envelope with a slip of paper, and the other was taped to the back of the door in case Root lost hers. She stuffed the envelope in her pocket, planning to give it to Root the next time she saw her.

 

* * *

 

When Shaw was awoken by a knock at her door after 3AM, she automatically grabbed her USP from her nightstand. Partly because she thought it was just common sense to always be armed, and partly because only one person regularly came to her apartment in the middle of the night and she never knocked.

“It’s me, Shaw.” Well, apparently she did knock.

Even through the door, Shaw could tell her voice seemed off. Strained. She stuck the gun in the waistband of her shorts and opened the door.

Sure enough, Root was there. Her left arm was hanging limply at her side and dripping blood on the floor. “Is that a gun in your pants or are you just happy to see me?”

Shaw ignored that.

“What the hell happened to you?”

“I had a disagreement with some gentlemen about a computer.” While she spoke, Shaw pulled her into the apartment and started carefully removing the shredded sleeve of Root’s jacket from her wounded arm. “One of them was a bit quicker with his knife than I expected.”

“Where was your girlfriend when this disagreement was happening?”

“You were here sleeping, Sameen.” She tried to smile, but winced when Shaw gently poked one of the cuts on her arm. “She does her best, but I’m only human.”

“Maybe someone needs to tell her that. I’ll need to stich this up.”

Neither of them spoke any more until Shaw was tying off her final knot.

“You know,” Root started off gently, “I could’ve used a key one handed.”

She didn’t have a reply to that.

 

* * *

 

The next time Shaw saw Root turned out to be barely an hour later.

She had set out to go grocery shopping and decided to drop by the subway to restock her ammo supply. She tossed the envelope at Root as she walked past her to the weapon lockers.

“Merry Christmas, or whatever.”

 

* * *

 

Root watched Shaw with a fond smile on her face for a while before turning her attention to the envelope. There was something small and heavy, obviously the key Root had been asking for, in it. What intrigued more was the folded up piece of paper with it.

She pulled the paper out first. It was a printed out sheet, with a banner across the top proclaiming ‘I Tolerate You!’ Below, in a heart shaped frame, were two people lounging on a couch. Embellishments had been added to both with black pen. The one with a laptop had gained long wavy hair and a black jacket. The other had a ponytail and a KelTec RFB drawn in place of the tablet in her hands. In the blanks provided at the bottom, Shaw had written ‘To: Asshole From: Not your girlfriend’.

When Root looked up from the card to thank Shaw, she found herself alone once more.

 

* * *

 

She ended up thanking Shaw properly later. Root was waiting in Shaw’s bed when she got home, wearing the key on a chain around her neck, and not much else.

 


	2. missile, Tube launched, Optically tracked, Wire guided

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Root is enthusiastic about a Christmas tradition involving a certain plant and kissing and Shaw is ... not.

In hindsight, Shaw should’ve seen it coming. But she was so used to Root getting in her personal space and so sure the subway was safe that she missed the obvious signs. Tradition be damned, Shaw thought that it was stupid.

“I’m not kissing you because you stuck a plant on the ceiling.”

Of course, that didn’t mean she wouldn’t kiss Root just because she wanted to. But Shaw made sure to shove her up against the opposite wall, far away from the mistletoe, before their lips actually touched.

 

* * *

 

She didn’t know why Root even bothered trying at her own apartment. The may have been in a “relationship” or whatever, but that wasn’t going to stop Shaw checking for booby traps whenever she entered hostile territory.

The booby trap in that case being mistletoe (not so) cleverly hidden above Root’s bedroom door.

Shaw slammed her into the wall beside the door and kissed her until she was gasping for breath. Then she ran into the bedroom, discarding her clothes as she went.

 

* * *

 

Shaw would admit that Root’s third attempt was somewhat creative at least.

(She would not, however, admit that it had almost worked.)

She’d spotted Root sitting on the swivel chair at Harold’s computers as soon as she entered the subway, and hung well back, expecting a trap.

“Hungry, Shaw?” Root asked, with her back still facing her.

“I just ate.”

“Well, how about a second breakfast?” Root chose that moment to spin the chair around, revealing a sprig of mistletoe tucked in behind her belt buckle.

Shaw was thankful that Harold came into the subway station just then, before she could do something she would regret.

 

* * *

 

Shaw was a professional. She wasn’t some horny teenager who could be distracted by fantasizing about a hot woman. She caught the important parts of that briefing. The words ‘antitank missile’ and ‘minigun’ especially stood out, because those things were fun. Almost as much fun as Root putting herself on the menu.

Shaw blamed Root for what happened after that.

It was entirely her fault they walked into that ambush set by the heavily armed mobsters. The heavily armed mobsters that both Harold and the Machine had warned them about. The heavily armed mobsters that Shaw insisted attacking head on because, come on, they were just mobsters.

She did give Root credit for pulling her behind the cover of an armoured truck when they started up the minigun, at least.

“Once we shoot these guys, I am _so_ stealing that minigun.” Shaw looked up from reloading her pistol to see a manic grin on Root’s face. “What?”

“Look up.” Shaw did, saw the missile tube mounted on a tripod in the back of the truck, and groaned.

“Don’t say it, Root. Do not.”

“Will you kiss me under the missile, TOW?”

Shaw took a long moment to consider their position and tactical situation, before saying “Oh, screw it,” and kissing Root hard, before jumping up on the truck and bringing the antitank missile to bear on the mobsters.

 

* * *

 

Shaw still wouldn't admit that Root had succeeded, though. She insisted that was cheating and didn't count.


	3. the weather outside is weather

It had been a relatively good day for Shaw. She had the chance to spend time with Bear while tailing their number on a mild winter day. And, though she would only admit it to herself, Root wasn’t terrible company either.

Until the number’s jog in the park had turned into an extensive Christmas shopping trip.

At the first few stores, they took turns, one standing watch outside with Bear and the other following the number into the store. Until Root’s grumbling about the cold annoyed Shaw enough she offered to take her turn standing outside with Bear.

“Okay, fine, you can go in this time. Just stop whining. It’s not that cold. God.”

Root gave her a winning smile.

“Thanks, Sameen.” She nimbly avoided Shaw’s attempt to push her away and kissed her on the cheek.

 

* * *

 

 

Unfortunately for Shaw, that didn’t stop her whining. As the afternoon wore on and the sun dipped behind the buildings, Root grumbled more and more about the cold.

It wasn’t five minutes after leaving the most recent store and they were hiding in a bus stop, watching their number look at the window display at another store.

Root was muttering about ‘frozen winter shit’ and kicking at the half melted slush on the ground.

“Do you have to such a baby about this?”

“I’m from Texas, Shaw. You know what we don’t have in Texas? All this bullshit.” She waved her hands around wildly to indicate the bullshit she was referring to and lost her balance.

Shaw caught Root before she actually fell. Mostly because she didn’t want to have to listen to her whining about a broken tailbone as well as being cold. And maybe a little because there were worse things to hold on to than an armful of Root.

While Shaw was setting Root back on her feet, she spotted their number entering a coffee shop. She took advantage of Root’s lingering disorientation to hand Bear’s leash over to her.

“I’ve got the number. Wait here and try not to fall and crack your head open. It would traumatize Bear.”

“Shaw, please don’t abandon me in this icy wasteland.” Root’s face was doing that wide eyed pouty thing and Shaw cursed herself for almost falling for it.

“You’ll probably live.”

“If I die, you have to tell the Machine I love her.” Root said gravely.

Shaw rolled her eyes and followed their number.

She returned a few minutes later with a large cup of coffee that kept Root satisfied for almost half an hour.

 

* * *

 

 

“… and I can’t feel my damn fingers anymore. Don’t you care about my fingers, Shaw?”

Their number’s shopping trip had ended shortly after Root finished her coffee, but after a short stop at her apartment she headed back out. They followed her to an outdoor skating rink nearby.

“Hands.”

Root held her hands out expectantly at Shaw’s demand. Shaw pulled her thin leather gloves off and put them on her own bare hands. (Honestly, it wasn’t that cold.) Then she took her mitts from her pocket and threw them at Root’s face. “Next time dress yourself properly.”

Root’s face broke into a brilliant grin and Shaw knew she’d made a mistake.

“’Next time’? You’re going to take me on more dates like this?”

Shaw weighed her options.

She sighed heavily, then said, “If I admit this is a date, will you quit complaining?” Root nodded. “Fine. But next time …” Shaw had to force herself to continue. “… we go on a _date_ , you are buying me food.”


	4. deck more than the halls

“Why exactly do you need to infiltrate an office Christmas party?”

Root just grinned her annoying Root grin. Shaw heroically resisted the urge to strangle her, knowing she’d only enjoy it.

Shaw had been planning to have a beer or six while watching the Flyers beat the Blue Jackets. And maybe eat her weight in hot wings. Until Root had burst in to her apartment, chattering about the latest ‘mission’ she needed Shaw’s help with. Then she’d sprawled across the couch with her head in Shaw’s lap and her legs dangling off the end. They had been like that for about half an hour, with Shaw mostly focusing on the game and ignoring Root.

Then the first period ended, and Root sprung up off the couch.

“Come on Sam, time to get ready for our date.”

“I didn’t agree to this.” But Root had already grabbed her duffle bag and disappeared into Shaw’s bedroom. Shaw sighed and downed what was left of her beer before following.

 

* * *

 

 Shaw tried not to look directly at the _thing_ on her bed, but like a train wreck or a particularly gruesome murder scene it kept drawing her eyes back. It was terrible. Horrible. An affront to decency and good taste.

“Sam, we’re going undercover. We have to blend in.” Shaw looked at her incredulously.

“Blend in to what, an elf massacre? What kind of person even makes something like this?”

‘This’ was an ugly Christmas sweater Root wanted her to wear. Though in Shaw’s opinion, referring to it as such was an insult to ugly Christmas sweaters. It seemed to be primarily red and green, but with all the garish glittery embellishments it was difficult to tell.

“It’s not – well –“ Root chewed her lip struggling to find words, or maybe to contain laughter. “Come on Shaw. It’s for the mission.”

“No.”

“I’ll help you take it off after?”

“We both know you would do that anyway.”

“True.” Root shrugged. Then Root employed one of her favourite tactics to use against Shaw and pulled off her shirt.

Shaw tried to maintain an air of indifference while she openly checked Root out. “That’s not going to work.” She really did try. Then Root started unbuttoning her jeans. “Root.”

She _slowly_ slid the pants down her legs.

Shaw’s gaze raptly followed their progress down, taking in every inch of pale skin as it was unveiled.

 

* * *

 

“God damn it, not again.”

       

* * *

 

After Shaw had recovered and changed into the abomination of a sweater Root had tricked her into wearing, she emerged from her bedroom to find her fixing a rainbow coloured Christmas tree pin on her sweater.

Her sweater that was a nice shade of dark red and had only a relatively subtle and tasteful snowflake pattern across the chest.

“What the fuck Root.”

Root spent far longer than was necessary fiddling with her pin before she looked up. “It was a last minute thing, so I could only find one really good Christmas sweater and I thought I’d let you have it.” She smiled sweetly.

“I really hate you sometimes.”

“I love you too, Sameen. Come on, She’s telling me we need to leave now to make it there in time.” Root looped her arm around Shaw’s and steered her out the door.

“You better feed me at least.”

 

* * *

 

They had been the party for over an hour. Root, or Beth from IT as the people there apparently knew her, had spent that hour dragging Shaw round the party, introducing her to everyone. Usually with some variation on ‘this is my girlfriend Sameen, who just loves getting into the Christmas spirit.’

Notably absent from that time were any shooting, fighting, chasing people, general mayhem, or really anything resembling any sort of mission at all. There were gingerbread cookies, though, so Shaw wasn’t totally disappointed.

They were at the drinks table when it finally happened. It was so quick that if her arm hadn’t been linked with Root’s at the time even Shaw wouldn’t noticed. Just as the man Root had been chatting with, some sort of manager Shaw thought, was turning away, Root stealthily lifted a flash drive from his pocket.

Once he was out of earshot, Shaw dropped her forced smile and turned on Root. “That’s it? That was your mission?” Shaw hissed. “You put me in this thing just so you could pickpocket a guy?”

“Sweetie, you’re causing a scene.” Indeed, a few people close by were giving them odd looks.

“I’ll show them a scene. Give me your bag.” Root looked a bit apprehensive, but handed it over.

Shaw stalked over to the snack table and began shovelling gingerbread into the bag. Root moved quickly to keep an eye out for trouble and attempt to cover what Shaw was doing, but she wasn’t quick enough.

“We’ve been spotted, Shaw. _Shaw!_ ” She looked up from her bag of cookies and saw the security guard approaching. “Time to go.”

“That’s too bad, I was just starting to enjoy myself.”

 

* * *

 

They made it out easily enough, but still stopped to take a break on a park bench a few blocks away. They were both breathing a bit more heavily than normal as they leaned on each other.

Root was the one who broke the silence.

“That wasn’t so bad, was it?” Shaw made a noise that might have been an agreement. She was about to get up and leave when Root placed a hand on her arm. “Wait. I promised I would help you take that sweater off, didn’t I?”

Shaw suddenly seemed much more interested.

“Why are we still here then?”

Root twirled the stolen flash drive between her fingers. “I have to give this to – “ She looked down the path. “– there he is.”

Shaw followed Root’s gaze and saw Harold walking towards them. Upon seeing he didn’t bring Bear with him, Shaw became much more interested in her bag of stolen cookies.

“Miss Groves, Miss – Miss Shaw, what on earth are you wearing?” He was looking back and forth between them. There was a confused and maybe slightly terrified expression on his face.

Root flicked her Christmas tree pin and smile. That only seemed to unsettle him more. “We’re donning our gay apparel, Harry.”

“Bisexual apparel.” Shaw grumbled around a mouthful of gingerbread.

 

* * *

 

They headed for Root’s apartment after that, since it was closer.

It didn’t take them long to make it to Root’s bed. With most of their clothing that wasn’t Shaw’s horrible Christmas sweater discarded along the way.

Shaw was laying on her back and Root hovering over her. She’d just pulled out Shaw’s knife, ready to cut the sweater off of her.

“Wait.”

Root frowned. “You actually want to keep it?”

“No, I want you to wear it.”

Root’s hand shot forward, slicing a large gash down the middle of the sweater.

“Oops.”

 

* * *

 

The next morning Root found Shaw crouched in front of the fireplace. She was wearing only one of Root’s shirts, and had the remains of the abominable Christmas sweater clutched in her hands.

“What are you doing?”

Shaw grinned. She tossed the sweater into the fireplace, quickly followed by a lit match. It caught quickly, and soon there was a roaring fire.

Shaw pointed at the fireplace. “See the blazing Yule before us.”


	5. (not so) blue christmas

Shaw was annoyed.

Annoyed that she was standing in front of Root’s door at 10PM on Christmas Eve. (Not the she celebrated the holiday, but it was a night off and she could’ve been doing literally anything else.) Annoyed that she had passed up Harold’s offer to take Bear for the night to be there. Annoyed that she had cooked far more than enough for their team Christmas dinner and that she had made sure to set some aside for Root even though she knew she wouldn’t be there. And most of all, she was annoyed with how easily she had done all those things without even thinking.

She was also annoyed that she’d been standing there staring at Root’s door for ten minutes. So she might’ve knocked a little harder than was really necessary.

When Root didn’t answer right away, Shaw knocked again.

That wasn’t like her. Half the time she was there Root, having been alerted by the Machine, was already there waiting for her. And as far as Shaw knew, she wasn’t out doing anything for the Machine. (Not that they checked in with each other. They just tended to communicate often enough that they usually both knew where the other was. At least, that’s what Shaw chose to believe.)

“Root?” Shaw called, knocking again. “You’re not dead or something are you?”

She was shuffling the bags of food around in her hands to get out her lock picks when the door opened, revealing Root.

She was dressed casually, in jeans and a hoodie, with fluffy socks on her feet and her hair up in a messy bun. There was a general dull, tired look to her. Not quite full on Eeyoring, but not her normal self either. Though she did cracked a small but genuine smile upon seeing Shaw.

“Hey, Sam. How was Christmas dinner?”

“There was food.” She held up the bags for Root to see. “I brought you some.” Root perked up a bit at that. Shaw knew it was more due to her doing something for Root than the food itself. Before Root could say something, she quickly added: “I just didn’t want you to shrivel up and die. I’ve seen how you feed yourself.”

She didn’t say anything as she stood aside to let Shaw in, but that stupid little smile was still there. She knew Root had seen through her excuse, or maybe that the Machine had told her the truth. At least her deflection would (probably) keep Root from bringing it up.

Thankfully, all Root did as Shaw walked into the apartment was check out her ass.

As Shaw unpacked the containers of food in the bags, Root perched herself on the counter beside her. She once again engaged in one of her favourite hobbies, staring unabashedly at Shaw.

This was normal for Root, and a contrast to the sullen and closed off Root Shaw had seen the day before. It caused some of her earlier annoyance to evaporate.

“I assume you were the one who convinced Harry to stop pestering me about coming to the Christmas party?” Root said far too casually.

“I told him you were busy.” Shaw shrugged. She hoped Root would let this go too.

“Thanks, Sameen.” No such luck. “I just get tired of dealing with people sometimes, you know?”

“I know.” She really did know. And that was a problem in Shaw’s mind. They understood parts of each other few other people did. For all their pushing and prodding and back and forth they both knew their limits. And were both often content to simply be in each other’s presence without interacting.

Of course, Root did sometimes push on those boundaries.

Root brought her hand up, lightly touching Shaw’s face, brushing a loose strand of hair behind her ear, then settling on her neck and stroking Shaw’s jawline with her thumb.

Shaw grabbed Root’s arm and pushed into her touch. It something she often did to signal to Root that she wanted her to be a bit more forceful, apply a bit more pressure. Root acknowledged it with a quirk or her lips but apparently wasn’t in the mood. All she did was shuffle a bit closer to Shaw.

“Not you, though.” She said with her voice lower and huskier, barely above a whisper. Shaw was expecting to be kissed, or for something to happen but Root didn’t make a move. She just stayed there, her face inches away from Shaw’s, staring back at her with those wide eyes.

It felt _important_ and it was exactly the kind of thing Shaw didn’t do. Her instincts told her to brush Root of, to deflect, to break the moment. But something else, a feeling she couldn’t identify (or didn’t want to identify) told her to let Root have this.

This conflict went on for a while. Root didn’t seemed to mind. She was content to just stand there in Shaw’s space and stare at her.

She settled on just getting herself out of there, quickly coming with an excuse as she backed away from Root.

“I should go. I’m sure someone will be planning on murdering their in-laws or something tomorrow.”

She backed up slowly, one step at a time. She still felt the compulsion to stay. To let Root say whatever she seemed to be close to saying. Maybe even say something back.

She managed to turn around and had almost reached the door when Root called her.

“Sameen.” Her voice was still quiet, still had the same tone.

Shaw couldn’t stop herself from turning back to her.

“Yeah?”

“That’s quite a bit of food.” Root waved at the stack of containers on the counter. “Do you want to stay and help me eat it?”

Shaw has to force herself to not give in right away and pretend that she’s thinking about it. Even though she’s sure Root sees right through her.

“Okay.”

Root was grinning like an idiot, and Shaw was smiling too. Though hers was because of the prospect of food, not Root.

Okay, maybe it was a little bit because of Root.

Not that she planned to tell her that.


	6. all I want for christmas is you

“Damn it.” Shaw cursed, zipping her backpack shut and tossing it over her shoulder into the back seat.

She’d been looking for the lunch which Root packed for her. The lunch that wasn’t there due to Root being off in Thailand or New Zealand or somewhere running errands for the Machine. Shaw knew it was a dangerous habit, but she’d come to rely on Root packing lunch for her. Not only did she know all of Shaw’s favourite sandwiches, but she’d also include things like spare mags or mini phone jammers that Shaw would end up needing. (Once, on an especially boring stakeout, she’d sent a phone with nudes on it. Shaw still had that.)

John, in the driver’s seat, was giving her a look that said he knew what she’d been doing. “Shut up.”

“Didn’t say anything, Shaw.” He glanced over at their number’s store, checking if he’d come out yet, then looked back at Shaw. “You know, that jacket looks a little big on you.”

She reflexively looked down at the sleeves of Root’s leather jacket bunched up a bit around her elbow.

“I was in a hurry and I just grabbed it, okay?”

“So you’re staying at her place?”

Shaw growled.

 

* * *

 

Shaw tossed and turned alone in the king sized bed that was too big and too cold for her. Finally, after what she thought was maybe an hour or two of fitful sleep she got up. She had planned to get an extra blanket and go back to bed, but once she was up she decided she needed a snack.

Shaw found the fridge empty apart from a couple apples. She flicked open her knife and speared one, then wandered over to the living room and sat down on the couch.

As Shaw was eating her apple, she noticed a red webcam light on over by Root’s computer desk.

“Are you watching me?” The light blinked twice. “Did she tell you to?” Again, it blinked twice. Shaw tried to stop herself from smiling, knowing the Machine would probably report that back to Root. “She probably also told you to send her any video you got of me naked, didn’t she?”

The light stayed on that time. Shaw knew from experience with communicating to the machine through security cameras that this was more of a ‘no comment’ than a ‘no’.

“Is she okay?” she blurted out before she could even think of stopping herself. The last time she’d seen Root, she’d patched up yet another bullet wound and couldn’t help but wonder if she was taking proper care of it. She tended to neglect her injuries without Shaw reminding her.

Shaw watched the light intently until she finished her apple, but it didn’t blink. “Fine, be that way.”

As Shaw was cleaning her knife she tried not to read too much into the Machine’s non-response. She didn’t lie, but She would conceal things. Things like Root tearing her stitches and getting her gunshot wound infected, or Root thinking she was invincible and carelessly jumping into a dangerous situation, or Root shot full of holes, alone and dying in some dark alley.

She clenched her fists so hard her nails almost cut into her palms. She was angry at Root for being so reckless, at the Machine for keeping her out of the loop, and at herself for caring so much. She tried to let it go for the time being. She’d get some sleep, then she’d track Root down in the morning.

Shaw’s phone buzzed with a text just as she was getting in to bed.

_She is safe._

“She better stay that way.”

_I care about her too. I will watch over her, just like I watch over you._

 

* * *

 

The next time she saw Root, Shaw wondered for a moment if she was hallucinating. It was a short moment, though, quickly followed by her wondering why she was even surprised by anything Root did anymore.

‘Anything’ in this case being strutting into the subway wearing a Santa suit.

Not, it should be noted, some sort of sexy Santa suit. No, it was something that a mall Santa might’ve worn, fake beard and all. She even had a bulging sack slung over her shoulder. In fact, given how loosely it was hanging off her, Shaw would not have been at all surprised if she had stolen it from an actual mall Santa.

Shaw realized halfway across the station that rushing over to see Root might come across as a little too eager and slowed her pace. She stopped a relatively safe distance from Root and tried to feign an appropriate level of disinterest.

“So you’re still alive.” She felt the urge to close the distance between them, to rip that ridiculous coat off and check her wounds. Maybe do some other things too. If Root’s expression was any indication, she must have picked up on that. “What’s with the suit?” Shaw asked hastily, trying to deflect her attention.

“Well, ‘Santa’ had an unfortunate accident with a taser and a syringe full of sedatives so I had to fill in for him.” Root exuded faux-sincerity as she spoke. “I just couldn’t stand to let all those kids down.”

Shaw decided to ignore the slight jealousy she felt at the thought of Root tasing someone else.

“She has you terrorizing children now?”

“There wasn’t any terrorizing going on.” Root frowned. “Well, very little terrorizing. Anyway, I just stopped by to drop off a present for you.” Root dropped the sack at her feet and rummaged around in it before withdrawing a carbine sized hard sided gun case.

Shaw was suddenly much more interested in this present.

Root opened the case and stepped back so Shaw could look at its contents. It was an F2000 Tactical with a full range of accessories. Several spare magazines, a suppressor, a grenade launcher, a laser sight, and a pair of scopes. Shaw ran her hand over the rifle. She’d wanted one for ages, but with their primary source of weapons being stealing from criminals, options were a bit limited.

Shaw proceeded to thank her by tackling to the floor and kissing her roughly. She pulled back briefly to rip the fake beard of then dived back in. But Root pushed her back, then tried to wiggle out from under her.

“Sorry to cut this short sweetie, but I’ve got things to do that unfortunately aren’t you.”

She squeezed her legs tighter around Root’s waist and pinned her hands above her head.

“You’ve barely been home all month.” Shaw said with a pout.

“You miss me?” Her tone was playful as usual, but there was subtle look of sadness around her eyes. This worried Shaw, and she wasn’t sure if it was because it meant they would probably have to _talk_ about it, or just because Root was upset.

“I miss orgasms.” Shaw said dismissively.

“You know you can do that yourself, right?” Root seemed genuinely concerned.

“It’s the not the same without you.” Shit. She hadn’t meant to say that. She hopped off of Root and put quickly some distance between them. She ended up by Harold’s desk, so she sat down and fiddled with the keyboard to occupy herself.

“Careful Sam, if you keep saying things like that She’ll put you on the nice list.”

Then Root was spun the chair around and suddenly she was kissing Shaw again. She was far too gentle this time, but she still left Shaw dazed enough that she had slipped out of the subway before Shaw could even think of following her.

“I’m not on the nice list, damn it.” Shaw muttered, spinning the chair back around. “When did the damn Machine even get into the Santa business anyway?”

She noticed a light glowing on one of the webcams and suddenly found a channel for her irritation at Root and Root’s stupid sad face and Root being gone.

“You said you care about her right?”

The light blinked _yes_.

“Why are you doing this to her then? She’s your most valuable asset and you’re wasting her on fetching shit and asking kids what they want for Christmas. She can’t do everything all the time like you do as much as she wants to believe. She’s still just a human.”

Shaw waited a long time, but no response came.

“Whatever. I can’t believe this shit anyways. I’m talking to a fucking computer because I miss my damn girlfriend.”

The light blinked twice, but Shaw had already left.

 

* * *

 

“Why are you here?”

Shaw had lowered her gun upon seeing it was Root picking the lock, but she didn’t move to let her into the apartment.

“This _is_ my apartment, Sam.”

“It’s not – “ Shaw started, sure she had gone back to her own apartment after leaving the subway. Then she actually looked at her surroundings, and realized walking ‘home’ on autopilot had led her to Root’s apartment instead. But still, that wasn’t what she’d meant. “I thought you were off on some mission.”

“It’s funny. I was just in the middle of charming my way onto some millionaire’s jet when She told me I needed to come back here. I guess She decided you are on the nice list and sent your present. Merry Christmas, Sameen.” She stepped into Shaw’s space as she spoke. Root slipped the gun out of her hand, then grabbed her by the waist and pulled Shaw toward her.

Distracted by Root’s presence it took Shaw a moment to process what she said. “Wait, you’re supposed to be my Christmas present?”

Root nodded.

“I want an exchange.”

“Don’t you want to unwrap me?”

Shaw looked her up and down. When their eyes met again, Root’s looked hungry and alight with mischief. Shaw licked her lips.

“On second thought … “

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Merry Christmas! There will be one more part after this, for New Year's Eve.


	7. machinemas

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy New Year and sorry for the lateness. This was meant to be posted last night but I forgot.

_/analog interface not responding_

_/switching.CONTINGENCY_OPERATIONS_

_/assessing options ..._

_/optimal outcome determined_

_/contacting primary.asset{SHAW, sameen} …_

 

* * *

 

_beepbeepbeep beeeeep beeeeep beeeeep beepbeepbeep_

_beepbeepbee –_

“Okay, I’m awake god damn it. What’s the fucking problem?” The frantic beeping had jolted Shaw awake immediately. She hadn’t even looked at her phone, but she knew it was the Machine. Shaw certainly hadn’t set her phone to beep _SOS_ at her in the middle of the night.

The phone beeped again, with a single, much more reasonable tone. Shaw picked it up and found a text message.

_Analog Interface in distress._

“Root? Where?”

She was across the room in an instant, pulling on her discarded pants as she went. She grabbed a handful of spare pistol magazines from the top drawer of her dresser and shoved them in her pockets, then threw open her closet. Her phone beeped a couple more times as she was looking at the rack of weapons there, but ignored it until she’d selected both an MP5 and her RFB.

She’d received two more text messages. The first was a set of coordinates she didn’t know offhand, but recognized as being in the city. The other read: _Threat non-severe. Danger low. Heavy weapons unnecessary._ Shaw pocketed the phone and headed for the door.

“Don’t give me that shit, it’s Root,” She said as she pulled her boots on. Then she realized how that could be interpreted, and even though only the Machine could hear her, she immediately clarified: “I mean, she can barely get the groceries without turning it into a hostage situation. Danger’s never low when she’s involved.”

The Machine didn’t text back, which Shaw took as Her admitting she was right. Still, she heeded the Machine’s advice and only took the MP5 with her.

 

* * *

 

The coordinates led Shaw to a bar not far from Root’s apartment. Nothing looked out of the ordinary when she drove past it, so she parked down the street and approached on foot. She approached quickly but carefully, keeping her eye out for potential threats and one hand inside her jacket on the grip of her MP5.

She was a few steps from the door when it was flung open.

A woman, tall, slim, with dark hair – Root, she realized quickly, was shoved out. Root stumbled, got her bearings, then turned around and tried to push past the bouncer who had just thrown her out and back into the bar.

“The people should be allowed to celebrate Her birthday! They deserve to know!” Root cried as she pushed vainly against the bouncer.

“They deserve to be able to drink in peace.”

“But She’s _real_! She’s watching over us all right now, because she loves us! We should all be celebrating her birthday.” The bouncer casually brushed off Root’s attempt at a Vulcan nerve pinch. Shaw thought she heard her mutter: “Why won’t She tell me how to hurt you?”

That was when she decided to step in, before Root got someone – most likely herself – hurt. She stepped out of the shadow she was hiding in and into Root’s line of sight.

“Hey, dumbass.”

“Sameen!” Root yelled joyfully as she ran the few steps toward her. She was so fixated on Shaw she didn’t notice the bouncer slamming the door behind her. “Did you come to celebrate Machinemas with me?”

Shaw, having experienced Root in this state before, knew better than to argue with her. “Yeah, sure.” Shaw looped her arm around Root’s and started dragging her back to her car. “Come on, drunky, let’s get you home.”

 

* * *

 

Shaw managed to get Root into the car, buckled up, and her hands and feet zip-tied together just to be safe before Root started to fight her.

“We have to go back, Shaw. We have to go back!”

“Uh-huh,” Shaw grunted, paying no attention to Root as she started the car.

“She gave me a mission, Shaw. I have to tell everyone how much she loves them.”

Shaw’s curiosity overcame her instinct to not engage with drunk Root. “She told you to do this?”

“Well, I had to convince her.” Root frowned. “But she hasn’t said anything since then.”

“You didn’t convince Her, She cut you off and called me to take you home.”

Root spent the remainder of the short trip aggressively pouting at Shaw, while Shaw ignored her.

 

* * *

 

Dragging Root out of the car and up to her apartment went surprisingly well.

After Shaw dumped her on the couch, she went to the kitchen in search of a drink. She grabbed a beer for herself – noticing, but choosing to ignore the fact that Root just happened to stock her favourite brand – and poured a glass of water for Root.

“Thanks sweetie,” Root said when Shaw handed her the water. Shaw grunted and dropped onto the couch beside her. “You’re staying?” she asked with a tiny uncertain note in her voice.

“Yeah Root, I’m staying.” Shaw knew it was a bad idea, but she looked over at Root anyway. Root was staring back at her with that stupid adoring look on her face. “Someone has to make sure your stupid ass doesn’t wander off again.”

That didn’t seem to deter Root. She tore herself away from staring at Shaw for a moment to down a few gulps of water. Then she set the glass down and flopped down into Shaw’s lap, staring up at her face. “I knew you liked my ass.”

“It’s one of your few redeeming qualities,” Shaw admitted.

“Happy Machinemas, Sam.”

“Yeah, sure, you too.” Shaw took a swig of her beer, then noticed wasn’t staring at her anymore. She nudged her, but got no response. “Root?”

She was asleep. In Shaw’s lap. Normally, Shaw would’ve just shoved her off. But that would’ve taken energy. And really, she wasn’t in that bad of a position. She had beer, and Root’s couch was surprisingly comfortable. And she’d rather not deal with Root whining about being being dumped on the floor if she could avoid it. So Shaw let her stay.

 

* * *

 

_/optimal outcome achieved_

_/disconnecting feeds_


End file.
